


The Clothing War

by ShdwBkr



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-09 01:50:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5520959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShdwBkr/pseuds/ShdwBkr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle and Rumple being dorks in the Dark Castle.  Just a silly little thing I wrote in response to a prompt on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Clothing War

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FrenchRoast](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrenchRoast/gifts).



“Belle?” Rumple entered the main hall, looking disconcerted at something he held in his hands. “What happened to my pants?”  


Belle looked up from her book, looking a bit _too_ innocent to actually _be_ innocent. “Your pants?”  


Rumplestiltskin looked towards her, his eyes narrowed. “Yes, Belle, my pants. I suspect you know exactly what I'm referring to.”  


Belle opened her mouth to retort, but before she could Rumple held the pants in front of him. It was a pair of his dark leather trousers, same as any other he'd worn for a hundred years, but much shorter, not even coming to midcalf. “Really? You somehow missed the fact that my pants are almost a foot shorter? And how, pray tell, did that happen? You _are_ the one who does the laundry, do you not? And yet you didn't notice _this?_ ”  


Belle stood abruptly, gesturing to the hem of her dress sitting at almost knee level. “Looks like it's catching. My dresses have been getting shorter at an alarming rate as well. What do you think about that?”  


Rumplestiltskin sputtered for a moment, before turning his head away. “I was trying to help. They were too long, and combined with your innate clumsiness and insistence on heels, it seemed a disaster waiting to happen.”  


“My _what?_ ”  


“Your heels?”  


“I am _not_ clumsy!”  


“Whatever you may claim to the contrary, I can't risk you stumbling into one of my priceless artifacts and chipping one of _those_ \--”  


“That was once! Or... twice, tops. Maybe three...”  


“--or tumbling off a footstool and getting blood all over my floors--”  


“Hey!”  


“--or tripping into the fire and burning yourself to a crisp. I'd never get the smell out of the drapes.”  


Belle was red at this point, jaw clenched. “Fine.” Rumplestiltskin expected her to argue some more, put up some sort of a fight, but she just turned on her heel and walked out of the room, leaving her book laying open on the arm of the chair she'd previously been occupying. A sense of something almost like guilt crept up on him, but he quashed it quickly. He had nothing to be sorry for; he had every right to protect his investments, and knowing her she really would have tripped over her own feet and broken something. Well, something _else_. He made his way up to his tower, determined to put it out of his mind. He'd made his point, and his pants would be safe from the help from now on.  


It lasted all of two weeks.  


“Belle!”  


Belle popped her head up from yet another book, her eyes huge, but her lip twitching upwards gave her away. “Yes?”  


“What is this?”  


“Your pants?”  


Rumple snarled at her, baring his teeth, but Belle just rolled her eyes. “I fixed a loose seam.”  


“And?”  


“And I may have added some... flair.”  


“ _Flair?_ ”  


“Pizazz?”  


“You embroidered flowers, Belle. Flowers, of all things.”  


“They're pretty?”  


Rumple pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “My pants aren't supposed to be pretty, Belle. You do remember who I am, right? The Dark One? Darkest of all dark sorcerers? Floral pants tarnish my image a bit.”  


“Okay, yes, fine. I may have been... a bit sore. About what you said.”  


“I'm... sorry, then. It may have been... a touch insensitive. Alright?” Rumple's fingers twitched a bit, before he extended his hand. “Truce?”  


Belle grabbed his hand, shaking once before releasing. “Truce. And I'm sorry, too. About all the pants.”  


“ _All_ the pants?!”  


“Oh my, it's almost sunset and the laundry is still hanging! Where _has_ the day gone? I'll see you for dinner, right?” Belle was already off the chair and out the door before Rumple could respond.  


“ _Belle!_ ”  


Despite Rumplestiltskin grumbling about having to invest in a whole new wardrobe of leather pants all through dinner and into the next morning, the truce managed to hold. It was going on three weeks, and things were progressing quite the same as they had before the very brief clothing battle, and all seemed well. The sun was shining and birds were singing on this beautiful morning, but there was a nip in the air, a sign of the rapidly approaching winter months.  


Belle approached the coat stand upon which hung her green cloak, which had quickly become her favorite article of clothing. It was warm, even warmer than it looked, and so very comfortable. She wrapped it around her shoulders and pulled the clasp around before realizing it was a bit more snug than it had been the last time she'd worn it. Finally, after pulling it tight around her bosom, she got it to latch. She frowned, glancing down at herself, and noticed what cleavage she had was pushed up, now clearly on display. Her previously comfortable, formerly favorite item of clothing was now pinching and tight. Only one other person lived in the castle, and so only one other person could have been responsible. Rumplestiltskin, the cad, had sacrificed her comfort for... for boobs, of all things. It appeared the war was back on.  


She decided against altering his clothing again, since that was almost more trouble than it was worth. That night for dinner, she found a recipe for stew which she only slightly altered, by adding ten times the dragon peppers it called for. She knew the overly spiced fare wouldn't hurt him, necessarily, but she did hope it would cause some discomfort, at least as much as she'd had to endure, hanging the laundry and tending the garden with her breasts in a cloth vice.  


He smiled at her as she set the bowl in front of him, and she managed to smile back, despite wanting to smack him upside the head. He frowned a little when she said she wasn't hungry as she'd already eaten, but he shrugged and took his first bite while she tried not to be too very obvious in watching him over the rim of her teacup.  


He sputtered a bit, coughing, “What did you put in this?”  


“Oh, you know, just some vegetables from the garden, that beef you brought back from town. Nothing too special. You like it?”  


His frown morphed into a glare, but he managed (with the help of a few gallons of water) to down the entire bowl. Hopefully, Belle thought, he'd take the hint, don't bite the hand that feeds and all that, and drop this ridiculous game, and she made her way back to the kitchen with his empty bowl, feeling victorious.  


The next morning Belle rose from bed, stretching, preparing for her morning ablutions. She approached the tub, usually always at the ready with steaming water, and found it tepid at best. Belle huffed, but cool bath water was a minor inconvenience and he wouldn't win so easily. She slipped into the tub, shivering slightly but trying to ignore it, then sprinkled her vanilla lavender bath salts in with her.  


They smelled lovely in their jar, but as soon as they hit the water the stench of rotten eggs and manure assaulted her senses. She jumped out of the tub, eyes watering, but the damage was done. Her bath, her room, and she herself reeked. After quickly toweling herself off and throwing on her closest dress, she stormed downstairs.  


“ _Rumplestiltskin!_ ” Belle was breathing heavily, anger coming off her in waves as thick as the smell, when Rumple sauntered into the room, hands clasped behind his back and a small smirk on his face.  


“Yes, Belle? You called?”  


“That was completely unnecessary.”  


“What exactly are you talking about? I haven't seen you at all this morning, until now, so how could I,” he placed his hand, fingers sprawled, against his chest, “be responsible for... whatever has you so upset?”  


“You know.”  


“Enlighten me.”  


“My tub, Rumple. And my soaps. That was too far.”  


“Oh, that? I'm sorry, Belle, but those refill by magic, and well,” Rumple raised a hand, twisting it about in one of his over the top gestures, “magic does what magic does.”  


“It was your doing, and you know it.”  


“I know nothing of the sort.”  


Belle growled, more loudly than her small stature might suggest, but was interrupted by the quiet clearing of a throat to her left. She spun around to see Jefferson, lounging innocuously in a chair, legs crossed and grinning.  


“Have I come at a bad time?”  


“N-no, of course not! I just hadn't been informed that we had a guest.”  


Rumple shrugged, “I was unaware of the need to inform the help of my every business dealing.” At Belle's glare, he averted his eyes and added, “And with your grand entrance I didn't much have a chance to, now did I?”  


Belle internally conceded his point, but there was no way that she would verbally acknowledge that he was right. Instead, turning to Jefferson, she said, “Actually, you might be able to help me convince _someone_ that he's being unreasonable. I very nearly suffocated this morning from the smell. Sabotaging a lady's bath is--”  


“--is no worse than trying to poison a man in his own home!” Rumple cut in.  


“Hardly _poisoned_.”  


“Hardly _suffocated_.”  


Jefferson's grin had somehow grown, his teeth glinting. 'Well, there goes that ally', Belle thought irritably. Though why she'd even tried to approach Jefferson as a voice of reason in this feud, she had no idea.  


“Maybe you should start at the beginning.”  


Belle explained how it started, when she first noticed her ever-shortening dresses, but Rumple was quick to interject about his own wardrobe malfunction. They were mostly in agreement until they reached the part right after the truce.  


“...and as far as I was concerned, it was all over and done with, until Rumple broke the truce.”  


“ _Me?!_ ” Rumple actually had the audacity to look offended. “I'm not the one who tried to burn your tongue off!”  


“No, you're the one who couldn't leave me and my cloak alone.”  


“Your cloak? I never touched your cloak.”  


“Oh? Is there suddenly a ghost seamstress living here?”  


“...what?”  


With a huff, Belle retrieved her cloak, fastening it around her as she had before, before turning with a glare to Rumplestiltskin.  


Who had turned an interesting shade of green-gold and was looking distinctly uncomfortable, staring intently at a spot above her shoulder.  


“Oh, _that_.” Jefferson laughed, covering his mouth with his hand as a snort broke through. “That's what caused all this fuss?” Belle and Rumple turned towards him, both wearing nearly identical mystified expressions. “That was me.”  


“ _You?_ ” Belle asked, mouth hanging open. “Why?”  


“Well, you are clearly unaware, but tailoring is one of my many talents. My dear friend Rumple here left me languishing in wait a few weeks back, and well... I don't know, it seemed like a funny idea at the time. Honestly I'd quite forgotten about it.” Jefferson laughed again, even as Belle approached, fists bunched at her sides. In a poof of red smoke he was gone.  


Belle blinked twice before turning back toward Rumple. “Where'd you send him?”  


“To the Dark Lake,” he paused, then grinned, “Well, _in_ the Dark Lake is more accurate.” Belle couldn't even find it in herself to feel bad for Jefferson this time.  


“I guess I was the one to break the truce, then. Sorry.”  


Rumple turned toward her, smiling, before he saw her cloak once more and seemed to choke on his tongue, quickly glancing away. “It's no matter. I'm sorry about the bath.”  


“No worries...”  


“So, truce is back on?”  


Belle bumped his shoulder with her own. “Of course. Though I wish you'd let me have at Jefferson before you poofed him away.”  


“Well, I _do_ know where he lives...”  


The truce was alive and well, but the war continued.


End file.
